Beauty Of Thebes

Chapter 34: Offering Herself

Crowds of crows grouped in a line jerked westward, disappearing over the Parnassus Mountains. Watching the crows show their deeds as if to suggest the gods were present, many eyes saw the sun dye the sky with the last color of sunset. 

Darkness laid like smoke on the spot where Helios’ tramp had passed, cooling off the heat of the day.

Stretching wide, colorful constellations stood in place. Selene, the goddess of the moon, bloomed under their protection. The full moon awoke the earth shyly with a noble silver lining. A strange red cloud hung ‘round the rim.

The mortal beings below praised the gods—whom they knew as a strange night encompassing the day during the festival—in the dreamy night sky.

The line that Apollo’s priest, Pyatia, was receiving gradually decreased. 

Thebes’ time has finally come.

Paeon sent out his commands and ordered many men to move the tributes from the wagon one by one to the altar.

Eutostea approached the flames created by the gods. A bottle liquor cherished in her arms had been sent to the center of the altar. 

The brazier handed the offerings to Hersia, the goddess of hearth, to which her hands purified the offerings through the brazier before passing it through the corresponding god.

There was a chance that the tributes and offerings to the altar could have been intercepted by Dionysus in the middle, but regardless, the offering would have to be delivered to the goddess first for purification before passing it to a god.

The temple was a man-made building created for Apollo, but at the same, it was a temple made also for Hestia.

“I offer this tribute on behalf of Thebes.”

Eutostea, with a solemn gaze, moved to the edge of a huge disc-shaped brazier and spilt the wine. The fire, which burned stably, smelt of sweet smoke as the drop of alcohol evaporated then burned again.

To prevent the fire from extinguishing, the bottle had to be emptied carefully and smoothly as much as possible. It was a task that required utmost sincerity.

Looking at the feast of swirling flames and hazy smoke, Eutostea remembered her home, her father who she’d never forgive, and her two lovely sisters whom she loved despite their high ego and pride. She had left them all behind, wishing them a safe and prosperous future.

She was blindly believing in this resolve, this wish for her family, and the safety of her country.

Eutostea glanced at the little bit of wine left. She took out the golden chalice Dionysus gifted her out of her pack. After putting the chalice on the altar, she poured the leftover wine. The clear distilled wine fluttered in the chalice and turned into a blood-colored wine with a deep fragrance.

Today, the god protecting Delphi was Dionysus. It seemed right for him to have a taste of the offering. Before him, Eutostea paid a moment’s silent tribute. 

Pyatia stood for the side, waiting until her prayers were over.

“Are you done?” asked the priest. 

“…Almost.”

Nodding, Eutostea looked at the golden and silver treasures that filled the altar. The look in her eyes that said “What will you do now?” spoke of much depth regarding her current circumstances.

“Give me the knife,” Eutostea said.

Pyatia pulled out the dagger from her waist. With it, she watched Eutostea with curious eyes, as if the princess was going to cut off her fingers as offering.

Eutostea took the knife and measured the length of the blade and its sharpness. Using her left arm, she grabbed a bunch of her hair and cut it off with a single stroke.

“Princess…!”

Shocked, Pyatia had tried to stop her, but it was too late. Her hair had already been cut. She looked boyish now.

Now carrying something covetous as a bundle of hair, Eutostea put it on the brazier.

“No matter how much I think about it, this is all that I’m able to offer…” Eutostea muttered.

In Greece, it was only common among slave women to cut all their hair. For a Grecian woman, their last pride was their hair, which they took care of pridefully and even more so when they were of noble and royal status.

Eutostea thought that this was the most reasonable offering. Her unstable honor, position, and what would become of her haunted her. What she could offer to Apollo was also something that tormented her.

After a long thought, Eutostea recalled that Apollo, who often visited her in the dead of the night, liked to play with her hair when hugging her affectionately.

“I offer you the most valuable thing I have left. Please don’t be angry.” With a smoky smell, Eutostea murmured as she looked down at the burning hair.

Then the flame, filling the big brazier, burned as if a firecracker had burst, and drew three flames into the air.

Eutostea wondered if it was Hersia, Apollo, or Dionysus peeping at Delphi. 

It was a question she’ll never hear the answer to.